


End of the Routine

by Hellesgift



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellesgift/pseuds/Hellesgift





	End of the Routine

A loud blast from the newser quieted the raucous crowd in the bar. A moment later, the assembled warriors, whores and hangers-on greeted the announcement of a victory on the half-moon Larek 2 with an exuberant shout. A list of prisoners scrolled quickly across the screen, and the bar returned to its usual noise-level, amplified by sudden discussion of the ransoms and slave labor.

Only one person in the bar was watching intently enough to notice the inclusion of a small transport ship that had been destined for a farming colony in third ring. The ship was listed with only one survivor, and the name of that survivor prompted a quick inhalation from the man in the corner. He unceremoniously shoved the pleasureboy from his knee and turned eagerly to his companion, a rangy female warrior.

"That one. Elli sub sen. He's a male sen-possible, and now pretty much guaranteed to be post-traumatic. This could be it." The speaker, scarred and wild as a warrior should be, whispered the words in almost-reverent tones. He was dressed in the blood-on-black leathers of a ruling Guide, while his war-marks declared his kinship to the woman who sat, hand on burner, beside him.

Even if her leathers and blooded war-locks had not marked her as a sentinel, the woman’s taut wariness in the midst of the crowd would have broadcast her senses, just as the man's calming Guidance proclaimed his status and role. The man's hair was also locked, but he was not blooded and the two warriors wore no bonding marks. Despite the disparity in their rank, the woman accorded him scant respect, knocking into his shoulder gently as she retorted, "Not a chance. A male possible? One in a skagging million they are. Blood, the odds even of a female potential are astronomical--"

"This one's male, Alex."

The woman--Alex--shook her head. "Blair, don't get your hopes up. You know the odds against a male sentinel even being born, let alone manifesting--"

"I had him researched once, before the invasion. Lost track of him after." Speaking casually over her argument, Blair leaned forward, resting his gauntlets on the rail that held their long straws of red fluid. "When I had him checked, he wasn't manifesting, and he couldn't bond. Now though...you never can tell once they're post traumatic."

Alex smirked slightly, confident as only an easily-manifested sentinel can be. "I'm surprised you didn't take matters into your own hands...how hard is it to traumatize some--" looking back to the newser, she smirked more widely-- "some _farmboy_?"

"Back then I figured I could do better."

"You could," Alex muttered, her lips thinning to a grim line as all levity vanished.

An old argument. Blair shook his head. "I can't. By our blood, Alex, you know that. Even if I could bond with a woman--and after this long I think we've pretty well established that I can't--but even if I could--they skagged us when they raised us together, mate-mine. You're blood-tagged to me."

Blair closed his eyes in shared pain as Alex scowled. Anticipating her reaction, he tightened his shields as his sentinel war-mate extended her senses towards him. Her survey felt like electricity on his skin, metal under his tongue, the wash of water in his ears. As always, there was surface comfort as her senses placed him in the world and his Guidance steadied her senses. But as she extended further, he felt the faint grating begin, and he winced as it reverberated back through their steelstrong yet insufficient war-mate bond.

With a final too-deep touch like a rasping of knife against bone, Alex pulled back, shaking slightly at the withdrawal. At the edges of Alex's pain, Blair could feel something else, a faint sending of comfort, and he glanced to the corner of the bar where a younger warrior sat. "That one wants to help, Alex."

She didn't even look. "Rafe. He's not a Guide."

"No?" Blair felt again. "You sure?"

"He's an omega in a Guideway across-province."

"Potential to be a Guide, then." Blair didn't know whether to proactively challenge to remove the threat, or wait until he could remove quietly. Or, of course, there was the impossible, insane option. He could welcome the opportunity for Alex. He couldn't imagine his life or his Guideway without her: personally and militarily the loss would be devastating. But if it freed Alex to seek solace...

Blair could never give her up to an omega, though. His honor would never recover.

"If he had you...and a Guideway..." With a sentinel as strong as Alex and his own Guideway, the omega would presumably rise to Guidance on his own. It felt like falling on his own sword, but he forced himself to complete the thought. "Alex, you know if you need help to capture him a Guideway, our tribe and...and I are at your side."

Alex laughed at that, throwing her head back in what Blair wryly felt was a excessively exhibitionist display of blooded hair and strong throat. He hoped the omega had appreciated it. "It's the Connor Guideway, Blair."

"Oh." Not something Blair would consider even if his forces hadn't come back decimated by the battles on Xhelrig. He grinned wryly. "Then you're on your own."

They laughed together, companionship restored for the moment, and Blair let himself enjoy the warm sense of solid trust, her shoulder against his, their thoughts shared. Taking a sip of the liquid in front of him, Blair savored it for a moment and then spit it in a long stream into the cup between them.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?"

Alex glanced at him suspiciously. "Loaded question." Taking a quick sip, she rolled the poison in her mouth before spitting it with force into the cup, adding, "Somehow I don't think I'll like this."

"I have a standing order for first-claim on any male sentinel or sen-possible captives. As you can imagine, it doesn't come up often. Twice before, actually." In more years than he cared to remember. "But I was going to go check the camp--if he's suitable, I'll bring him back to the Guideway."

"Heartsblood," Alex cursed reflexively. "Lot of work for a potential who'll never do you any good. Skagging shame we can't..." she trailed off, shaking her head in resignation. "If there were any chance, we'd have bonded after our first battle, huh? It's too bad...we'd be so perfect together."

Blair leaned in closer for a second. "We are perfect together. Just not that way. Not as lovers, and not--" He broke off, unwilling to hurt her, but Alex had always been brave in the face of pain.

"Not as bonded Guidesen. So I'll keep slumming with omegas, and you'll keep on hoping for a male sentinel--despite the fact that they're blooding rarer than a virgin in this whorehouse."

Blair spat in agreement, then turned to her. "I'm going back to our old infiltration routine, by the way. I can't come at him without subterfuge, and seduction doesn't seem to work. You sentinels are more moved by duty than desire."

"Don't lump me with your bloody y-chromosome mutants, okay?" She smacked the wall, embedding three shells for their poison with more force than absolutely necessary. "Let's go."

 

 

 

Their Guideway might have suffered in the most recent campaign, but Blair's mechanics prided themselves on the condition of their racers, which were the fastest in the province. By second sunrise the next morning they had passed through security at the prison camp. Finding the central tent, Blair skillfully brought the racer to a stop, hovering just far enough from the site so as not to sandblast it. Leaving his copilot in the machine, Blair led Alex and the Guideway's head slaver over to the processing area. The camp managers had been warned of their visit, and the sen-potential prisoner was already restrained and blindfolded, displayed in front of the tent.

Blair inhaled deeply at the sight of him. Elli was a tall, strong man, built like a warrior but without the scars they all carried from the wars. He'd been destined for a farming colony, Blair recalled, and it fit: a job with physical labor to sculpt that body, but without constant hazards to mark it. Blair wished for a moment that he could see the prisoner's eyes, but he knew the need for the blindfold.

There was no hint of subliminal sensing--the sen-potential was obviously not yet induced. Perhaps he really couldn't manifest. But something...there was _something_...Blair started to step forward, not sure what he intended, but needing to reach out to the other man, to settle the panic and rage he could feel coursing under the prisoner's skin.

Before Blair could reach the prisoner, his slaver dropped her hand in front of him, barring the way. She assessed the prisoner with cold, ancient eyes, glanced back at the paperwork provided by the camp guard, then shook her head. "He'll be of no use, Guide. Not for what you want him for. His papers say he's former military. Made it through enough of the training..." she shook her head again, "He'll not submit."

Blair trusted his slaver almost as implicitly as he trusted Alex, but he shook his head silently in disagreement, gesturing to have the prisoner returned to the tent. When the captive was out of earshot, Blair turned to the slaver.

As if anticipating defeat, the old woman shook her head again sharply, "He'll not stand for it; he's not one to open up to a captor unless compelled, and you can't compel what you can't induce. Mother's blood on it, he won't manifest."

Blair ignored the comment, although he feared Rak was correct. "Just take him back to the Guideway. In the lower cells."

"I know his type, skag all," Rak retorted. "He won't do. You're a fool to waste--"

Alex drew in her breath sharply and the slaver, as if realizing what she had said, stepped suddenly backwards. Blair said nothing. But the look he gave Rak held a hint of the time when, as a ruthless young omega, he had come up through the ranks and won Guidance of the greatest estate in province. The slaver paled, then bowed low. "Your order will be obeyed. I shall do my best."

Blair smiled softly. "I ask no more than your very formidable best."

As the slaver oversaw the quick evacuation of the new slave, Alex let out her breath in a long whistle. "Thought I'd see a head roll, there."

Blair touched his burner reflexively. "You need to get back into the feel of peacetime, my friend. We no longer kill for insubordination. "

"Don't you?"

Blair looked sideways at Alex, who was grinning wickedly. He laughed. "Not a talented slaver like Rak, anyway." As he gave Alex a leg up onto the racer, Blair called back over his shoulder to the slaver, "That will be infiltration routine one."

"Yes, Guide."

 

 

 

A half moon-cycle later, Alex waved her escort away and warily entered the darkened viewing room. She could see Blair sitting in front of a bank of screens.

"Blair? I came as soon as I could. I was cross-province when you signaled yesterday..." She trailed off, and then asked, "What's this?"

Blair gestured for her to approach, his voice echoing coldly in the soundproofed cubical when he finally spoke. "Rak just told me that my potential is ready for action...takes a while to get them to the right stage of desperation sometimes. What do you think?"

Alex approached the screens slowly, fiddling absently with her side-sword. She glanced at the first screen. "I don't know...he's looking a little--" she tilted her head in confusion "--female?"

Blair snorted softly. "That's not him, that's the clotting mother-skag assassin who tried to knife me last night. I only have one screen per cell." He pointed.

Alex looked at the second screen, then shrugged. "He's pacing. So he's either desperate or trying to keep fit. How can I tell? Your slaver should know."

"She does. Now I just need your help for the start of the routine." Blair stood, stretching until his back cracked and then flexing his muscles under the short jacket he had chosen that day. He would have stretched further, but long years of experience had taught him when not to push Alex, and for some reason she seemed tense today. It was dishonorable to arouse her with no hope of bonding, and as he had gone to some trouble to be appealing to sentinels today, he would need to be careful with his war-mate.

Tamping down any sensual broadcast, he adjusted his clothing pointedly, drawing attention to his strange attire. He took in Alex's surprised glance as she realized he was dressed like a civilian, kilt and bare feet proclaiming lack of status. Alex's eyes widened further as she glanced back up at his face, and he could tell the moment when she noticed that his war-locks had been carefully (and painfully, he remembered with a grimace) combed free into curls.

"You--blood, Blair! You look like--like a skagging pleasureboy."

"Routine one. Alex, what's got you distracted? You should have noticed that right off."

She pulled her hand back sharply from where she had been tracing a finger along one glossy curl, losing herself in her senses. "I...nothing. " Stepping away, she shook her head roughly. "Let's go give your mutant a thrill."

Blair thought perhaps he should press the issue--it wasn't like Alex to be so unobservant. But the last half-moon had dragged on forever, and the slave wasn't the only one who was feeling desperate.

 

 

A mile and four flights of stairs later, they stood together in front of the door of the cell, Alex still complaining. "You called me over for this? Blood! I have better things to do with my life, and I wish you did too."

"Stop whining. Now, when Rak opens the door, you shove me in." Blair distractedly pushed his newly-disordered hair out of his face. "There's few I trust behind my back, you first on the list. And it helps the illusion if I'm thrown into his cell. So just do it, and Rak will take you to the stables. You'll like my new thoroughbred...and its rider."

Blair braced himself as her hands closed around his arms, and then he stiffened. His skin crawled with Alex's sudden silence, and he felt the warmth of her body against his back like a faint echo of her rapacious surveillance. She had buried her face in his hair, and for a shocked moment he felt her sensing build to discordant pain before he wrenched himself free. He stood, staring, as the sensation faded and the wild look on Alex's face shifted to blank reserve. Glancing away, Alex said quietly. "Give me a kiss first."

"What?"

Alex grimaced harshly and said, with the mocking bitterness she sometimes allowed to surface, "Kiss me, and I'll push you."

An insistent unease nagged at Blair. "No kiss, and you'll push me anyway."

As the door in front of them opened, Alex spat reflectively on the floor and shoved her war-mate with all her might.

All of Alex's might yielded an explosive shove. Blair shot in through the door and into the arms of the man who had been waiting, poised to fight. Collapsing under Blair's weight, the slave began to struggle. He had his knee up and was shoving at Blair's chest when Blair felt his hands come in contact with the skin bared by his short jacket. A knee stopped just short of Blair's groin, and the slave loosened his grip. In a flash Blair was up and crouched in the corner, fists up defensively. The slave raised himself to his knees, then put out his hands, palms downward.

When he spoke, the slave's voice was deep and gentle. "It's all right...I won't hurt you."

"You're mothersblood right you won't hurt me." Freed momentarily from the urgent need for action, Blair took a moment to settle himself into his role.

Although it had been a while, Blair had no trouble easing into the character he had played twice before. The first time, the male sen-possible had immediately tried to rape him. After disposing of the body, Blair tried again later with another, who had manifested just enough to suffer when they couldn't bond--they didn't have the war-mate bond to fall back on as Blair did with Alex and his other war-mate sentinels. It had been a relief to hand that one off to an unbonded war-mate omega on a small non-aligned estate in the next province.

Now this un-manifested sen-possible was another chance at disappointment.

Blair pulled himself out of bitter memories to listen as the slave said, "Everything's going to be fine. Well, maybe not. But...I won't hurt you, don't worry."

The slave's misguided efforts to reassure his own captor amused Blair, but charmed him as well, coming as they did in such a warm, gentle voice. He remained silent, glad when the tactic encouraged the slave to speak again: "I don't know where we are or why we're here. I was taken prisoner. Some time ago--I don't know how long--I woke up in this room. You're the first person I've seen since then." As if in an attempt to make Blair more comfortable, the slave backed away slowly. "My name is Jim Elli."

This was a new approach, and Blair was impressed. "I'm..." he paused for a moment, unsure of his next step. He had an instinctive preference for honesty, and Jim's manner had pleased him. The truth could not hurt this once, since there was almost no way that Elli sub sen would recognize Blair's use name, despite the size and prestige of his Guideway. "You can call me Blair."

"Blair." Relaxing slightly, Jim smiled, and Blair found himself answering his smile. "That's better. I promise, I'm too grateful for company to think about hurting you. Now if I promise to sit here in the corner and not make any sudden moves, would you feel comfortable sitting as well? It's hard to talk to someone who looks ready to attack at any moment. Although I'm willing to try if that's all I can get."

At Jim's comic expression, Blair took two steps towards him, then sat. Having made it that far, Blair could think of nothing to say. As the silence weighed heavy, Jim tried again, asking, "Are you a prisoner too?"

Blair thoughts drifted to the moment before his entry into the cell, to the grating despair in Alex's attempted sensing. He thought of himself as he was now, trapped guiding Alex and her sister sentinels with no true bond to comfort them...and he found himself nodding even out of character. He hastened to explain with the lie he had told twice before. "I've been here a while. This is the slave-hold of the local Guideway."

Jim looked suddenly grim. "So...we're slaves." At Blair's nod, Jim continued "If I'm not held for ransom...when do my duties begin?"

"Now." Looking up through a fall of thick curls, Blair saw no glimmer of understanding on his companion's face, so he was forced to continue. This Jim must be quite innocent--the other one had guessed immediately. "The Guide wants a male sentinel...there isn't one in the whole province. She's read about your difficulty manifesting, and, well, she thought that maybe I could induce you."

Jim flinched, the involuntary movement almost unnoticeable. "But I can't. I've tried before..."

"But only with female omegas and a female Guide," Blair spoke softly, as if he knew the answer. This was the one weakness of his past research--he had no way of knowing if Jim had ever been attempted by a male omega, but Blair suspected that in an outprovince farming community the elders might not have suspected that it was an alternative.

At the dark flush of embarrassment that rose in Jim's face like a tide, Blair knew he had been right. He lowered his voice, pushing everything into the covert sensuality of inducement. "I can't induce a female--it makes me pretty much worthless, since males sentinels are--well, except for you, well nigh non-existent." Only a partial truth, of course, because Blair's position with his female sentinels went beyond induction. No Guide in the province--maybe even on planet--was as skilled in Guiding un-bonded sentinels as Blair was.

"Open your senses, Jim. Can you feel anything?"

Jim closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as if he could inhale inducement with the Blair's scent. With a gasp of effort, Blair opened himself to the scan, freeing his mind and emotions to flow as smooth as water, welcoming the sensing like a sandy beach greeting warm sea waves. Thick, dark warmth built up in his mind, pulsing in time with his heart. Breaking down his usual inhibitions, Blair offered himself as a banquet of temptation: no sen-possible capable of inducement could have refused it.

A long, tingling moment seemed to hang in the balance. It felt so right for a heartbeat that Blair forgot to guard against hope, and the shock at Jim's sudden slump and disappointed sigh took Blair beyond the role he was playing. Shaking his hair back, he stared at Jim pleadingly, and Jim slowly shook his head. "Sorry, Blair. I think the Guide's going to be disappointed."

They sat for a moment in dejected silence, long enough for Blair to ponder the elemental rightness of the bond: that even as a slave, Jim would want to manifest with a stranger sent to induce him for another.

For a moment, Blair wished that this scenario were true, that there was some other Guide forcing them into this, that he wasn't lying to Jim with his very presence. But it was a small wish, next to the vastness of his hopes for a bond, hopes that were writhing in their final demise as Blair accepted the complete lack of manifestation in the other man. No potential could have resisted, if a bond were physically possible.

"Will you be punished?" Jim asked quietly.

For a moment Blair didn't understand the question, and then remembered the scenario with a faint trace of unaccustomed shame. Of course, an omega might be punished for this failure. Fleetingly he wished for honesty, then replied in his role, "I'm used to it. But if you're punished?"

"I can get used to it."

Blair felt suddenly and very unaccustomedly humble. "I...thank you."

Jim shrugged. "Before we're separated...tell me about yourself. I could really use something to think about when I'm alone again."

Blair moved closer to him, running a hand awkwardly through his unfamiliar curls. "Not much to tell. I fought in the great wars. This Guide won. I'm not strong enough to challenge, and anyway, the Guide has five sentinels ready to reject challenge."

"The Guide--she's bonded to the sentinels?"

Blair paused for a moment, then opted for a partial truth. "They have a war-bond, not a Guide-bond. But it's enough to allow at least working Guidance. And the Guide would never be willing to share, even if I could bond with a female sentinel."

That much was true, after all. Blair would fight to keep Alex and his other sentinels from any upstart omega who might attempt a bond. He put aside the thought of Alex's hopeful omega from the bar, as he continued sadly, "So, I'm reduced to this. Forcing an attempted inducement on a prisoner."

Jim glanced over. "No harm done. Not like we had a choice."

"No." They sat in silence for a moment, but for some reason Blair didn't want to leave, despite the destruction of his plans. "What's your story, Jim?"

"What?"

"You know why I'm here--and that I've failed. What's your story...before capture, that is."

Jim leaned back against the wall. "Old tale, really. Third son, no money for a farm of my own, offered a chance on a colony. It's a way to get rid of unwanted populace and at the same time have someone go ahead to a new colony and make it habitable."

"Would you be farming on the colony, too?"

"I have other skills. They want generalists. They also...well, they saw my subclass."

"Sub-sen."

Shifting uncomfortably, Jim agreed. "Yeah. They want sentinels. I'm just as glad they won't know about this latest fiasco. I sometimes wonder if that test was wrong. I'm too old to manifest now, anyway."

At that reminder, there was a long silence.

Jim, obviously thinking of his weeks alone, eventually broke the silence again. "I don't know how you do it, though. Trapped here...since leaving my father's farm I've based my life on freedom and opportunity. What keeps you alive here?"

Blair stared into space for a moment, then spoke in a distant voice. "In foolish dreams, I think about finally achieving the bond. But that's never going to happen. I have to accept...I have no right to complain. I have my honor. That's all any of us can hope for."

Jim looked at him for a long moment, then reached out to rest a hand gently on Blair's arm. "You're right. Even here, they can't take our honor. Honor is internal."

It was like a slap in the face, Jim's earnest compassion in the face of his barefaced lies. Blair stood quickly and knocked on the wall. "Let me out--it's not working, let me out!" The door opened smoothly, and Blair was out of the cell before Jim could react.

 

The shame wasn't enough to keep him away, however. The next day Blair slipped in again, this time without Alex's forceful assistance. Jim was almost pathetically glad to see him. "Blair! I was afraid since we didn't...the Guide wouldn't let you come back."

"She won't accept that it's hopeless. Not yet. I guess we get a second chance." He sat down next to Jim against the wall, and then, at Jim's quiet invitation, leaned in to rest lightly against Jim's side.

 

That was to become their usual position as, over the next few weeks, they sat and talked almost daily. Blair found that his portrayal contained, as he and Jim became closer, more truth than invention. Only the basic premise of slavery must be remembered. Oddly, Blair found that his feelings about life closely approached Jim's feelings on slavery. It made the act much easier.

It worried him a bit to realize that, as the weeks passed, his time with Jim became the focus of every day. Jim was intriguing: open and honest, kind but not weak, entertaining, imaginative and tough. He also showed a passionate rejection of injustice that Blair found disconcerting after a life-time of compromises. For all his recognized similarities to the warriors Blair had grown up with, Jim was in many ways a puzzle, and Blair looked forward to his chances to find out more about him.

There were, of course, his other duties to attend to as well. A loud pounding on the door to the cell one morning interrupted one of Jim's stories of family and home, and Blair put himself between Jim and the door before he could think that the action didn't really fit his role. What he saw when the door opened increased that worry quickly.

"You, omega! Get out here; the Guide wants you," Alex growled, stepping into the cell followed by Rak. Both women had their burners out and trained on Jim.

Blair could feel Jim's concern in the hand that came down lightly on his shoulder. He couldn't blame Jim--the burners were ominous enough, but Alex in full formal regalia was a terrifying sight even to her war-mates. Gloriously blooded and re-inked beneath her leathers, Alex looked like vengeance and domination combined. And it didn't take a Guide--or even an omega--to feel the boiling rage rising within her. It was dizzying, like a night of fights and too much poison, so much so that Blair felt it was almost surrounding him.

"And aren't you a pretty piece of sentinel-bait," Alex growled, reaching out with her free hand to stroke down Blair's throat. Blair looked for some glimmer of pretense or comradeship in Alex's wild eyes, but saw only blank rage. He could feel the hot crimson of it filling the room, swirling around them like a bloody tide. Without thinking, he knocked away her hand, and was shocked when she grabbed him by the throat, pulling him forward.

Before Blair could steady himself, Jim had lunged forward. Still caught by his sentinel, Blair could only reach out with his voice as he shouted, "Jim, don't!"

Rak's burner was off safety, and Alex looked almost drunk on aggression. Lowering his voice into the Guidance range, Blair spoke softly to his sentinel, hoping that it would calm Jim as well. "Sentinel, I'll follow. Just let me--"

Alex readjusted her grip on his throat, and for a horrifying second Blair thought he would see Jim killed, as the man ignored two burners to step between Blair and his sentinel.

"Don't. Don't." Turning his head toward Jim, but keeping his eyes trained on Alex, Blair spoke softly. "It's all right. I'll be okay; I can handle this."

Of course he could handle this. He could level Alex by merely lowering his shields. But then Jim would see the lie for what it was; see Blair for what he was. Blair wasn't ready to lose his pleasant fabrication just yet.

And despite Alex's gross insubordination, they were war-mates and friends. Something strange was happening, and he was torn between his new affection for Jim and his age-old loyalty to Alex. Luckily both emotions were served by getting him out of the cell.

Watching carefully as Rak guarded their retreat, Blair allowed Alex to pull him out of the cell. When they were far enough away that no residual backlash would be felt by Jim--even if he were induced--Blair opened his mind.

"What the clotblood skag was that, Alex?" He shoved her away, and she fell against a wall, groaning at the force of his anger on her senses. "Just who do you think you are? And what the skagging mothersblood did you think you were doing?"

" _Don't..._ " She raised a shaking hand against him, as if flesh could bar his power.

"Don't what, Alex? Don't establish my _right_ in this war-bond?" But even as he stood over her, he felt his rage ebbing away. She was trembling in pain, down on one knee and clinging to the wall as if it could substitute for the withdrawn support of his Guidance. He had loved her too long; he couldn't watch her pain, let alone cause it.

"Blood," he cursed, bringing his shields back up and reaching out his Guidance. "Shh, Alex. Let me--" her sob of relief interrupted him, and for a moment he allowed her to cling to him, face buried in his thigh. Both of them were shaking in reaction. He could hear Rak shifting uncomfortably behind them. No servant liked to see the Guide enraged, and many civilians were discomforted by the balance of power between a Guide and sentinel. Well, tough. This wasn't about civilians.

"Rak, go back to your quarters."

"Guide..." Rak's voice was quiet but firm. "Guide, there's a problem in the main hall. Request permission to wait for you at the second gate."

Blair nodded impatiently, his eyes never leaving his sentinel. As Rak's footsteps faded ahead of them, Blair leaned in and spoke gently. "What's this about, Alex?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Guide, I didn't mean--"

"Shh. None of that. Alex, come on."

She coughed, moaning softly as Blair extended her more support in response. "I--there's a crisis...some omega's come for Akred, says they've bonded. I only came to get you, to warn you, Gui--Blair. The other sentinels are guarding Akred. It may come to challenge, I don't know. I just thought to get you out of the cell, but then when I got there..."

Her eyes were wells of anguish when she looked up. "You were completely open! To him, to some _farmer_. He's never trained beside you, fought for you, bled for you. You opened to him like a keep surrendering to a triumphant army, and you've never done that for me. Why can't you, Blair? Why can't we?"

"Oh, mother's blood, Alex." It was more a prayer than a curse, and Blair underscored the idea by kneeling in front of his war-mate and sentinel. "He's not induced. It means nothing to him. And you...it would just hurt you, Alex. It does hurt you, we just saw that. You know that's the difference. If it didn't hurt you when I drop shield--blood, Alex, don't you think I want that, too?"

For a long moment they knelt there, braced in each other's arms. Sometimes Blair felt it would be kinder to both of them if he just dropped-shield and let the blowback kill them both. But they had a duty to the Guideway, and honor did not allow for suicide.

Finally, with a long sigh, Alex leaned back. "I don't know how long the other sentinels can hold Akred. Not sure if she bonded with the omega or not, but--well, I think you need to get back."

"It'll give me a chance to work off some of this adrenaline." Blair laughed, a dark, ugly sound. "Let's see if she can stand against me, shields down."

 

 

But as it was, Blair was still vibrating with adrenaline at third sunrise, having missed a chance to burn it off in a mind-battle with the upstart omega. He had felt the fledgling bond as soon as he entered the hall, and Akred's desperate fear grated on him like glass in a wound. She was ruined for him, bonded to some landless omega, and in the end Blair couldn't face killing the intruder. Not when it would have killed Akred, too.

Alex stood tall beside him as the last echoes of the bond faded from his consciousness. Undoubtedly she could feel it too, and maybe that was the reason for the gentleness in her voice. "You're too soft with us."

"What was I supposed to do, kill them? Akred fought with us at Xhelrig. She saved your life, and therefore mine." He felt her reaction and spoke quickly to forestall comment. "I don't need her blood on my soul."

"Her blood, and mine, is yours to spill." Alex was blinking quickly, obviously affected by her memories of the last battle at Xhelrig, when Akred had saved her life, and Blair had accepted Akred into his Guideway as thanks.

With the adrenaline and rage and sorrow of the last hours roiling inside him, Blair couldn't face another emotional exchange. "How about helping me forget a really skagging day, mate-mine?"

Alex laughed shakily. "I'll get the practice burners."

 

 

"You sure you're up to this?" Alex asked lightly, restoring their equilibrium with the usual pre-fight taunts as they reached the sparring ground. "Men weaken the legs, you know."

"What?" Blair's voice was muffled by the leather and scales of the torso-armor, and when he had the yoke settled on his shoulders, he repeated, "What did you say?"

"I said: Men weaken the legs. Should I offer you a handicap?"

"What? No. I haven't had him. No point, since we can't bond."

"No point?" Alex muffled bawdy laughter as she primed her burner and handed the other to Blair. "I appreciate your dedication to your quest, but even I could tell that there's a point to having him beyond the hope of a bond. A fine piece of meat, even if he won't induce. And he's not a Drakk poison, mate-mine--he won't improve with age."

Squaring off on her side of the line, Alex continued ruefully, "It's all just as well for our bout, though. Men really do weaken the legs. Tragically, we both should be at top form."

With a sarcastic grin, Blair saluted, and they fell into the familiar ease of battle.

They began the fight on open ground, but Alex pressed her advantage and soon they were in the rocks, where Alex's skill and speed were more suitable than Blair's strength and power. Even then, Blair would have had a good chance of winning, had he been able to concentrate on the fight. When two well-matched warriors fight, however, both must be intent on the battle. Blair was not, and therefore, reacting slowly to a blaze from behind a large bolder, he received a deep burn across the ribs and back, deflected only slightly by the heavy scales of the guard. Of course, without the guard he'd be dead. As it was, the burn swept away his lingering frustrations in a sea of pain.

A practice bout ends with first burn. Alex attached the burner to her belt and joined Blair in surveying the damage.

"Pretty deep, that one. Scorched bone." There was no apology in Alex's voice, nor did Blair expect one.

"Not completely cauterized, though." Blair touched the hot barrel of his burner to the sullen stream of blood. The singed smell intensified, and when he removed the burner, the entire wound was blackened. Through this procedure, they analyzed the fight.

"What little there was of it," Alex complained. "Next time you say you'll fight me, I want you to really be there."

Blair laughed derisively. "Next time! You'll be lucky if there is a next time. What a terrible shot. You only aimed about a foot ahead of me."

"I hit you."

Blair shook his head. "That's an indictment of my skills today, not praise for yours."

They began unsuiting again, Alex answering Blair's last statement with an agreeable nod. As they began the walk back to their quarters, she reached over and struck Blair lightly on the left thigh. "Your legs are looking fine, Blair. But I think the man has definitely weakened your head."

 

 

Having oiled the wound well, Blair was not even stiff the next day. The pain was there, but that was nothing new. Besides which, Blair was looking forward to another session with Jim. Of course, he'd have to think of some story to explain Alex's dramatic intrusion the day before.

When he entered the cell, Jim was waiting anxiously. He greeted Blair with a light embrace, a thoroughly agreeable development from Blair's standpoint. It was, however, unexpected; he had not planned for any contact. As Jim stepped back, he was staring at the red-tinged oil that covered his left forearm.

"What's this?" Before Blair could think of a story, Jim had turned him around and lifted the short jacket he wore. Blair heard a sudden hissing intake of breath, then Jim moved him to the corner where the lamp hung. "What did this?"

Still amazed at the novelty of being moved by such a gentle yet insistent force, Blair answered absently: "A burner. I was guarded, though; it's not too bad."

Jim still had his left hand on Blair's waist, while he held the jacket off the wound with his right. He touched the edge of the medicated area lightly. "Was this a punishment? Because we can't..."

"No! No. It was a practice bout. Nothing to do with--" _us_ Blair thought--"you."

"You were fighting?"

Thinking back on the fiasco that had been the fight, Blair laughed shortly. "More like acting as a moving target."

"Bastards." There was such palpable anger in Jim's voice that, despite himself, Blair flinched. Instantly Jim whispered something wordless and placed his right hand on Blair's shoulder in comfort.

Since he still held the jacket, much of Blair's back was bared. There was a long silence which Blair could not interpret. Then Jim removed his hand from his waist, to Blair's faint disappointment.

Blair felt him trace with a finger the scars on his shoulders and back. One from the Teldor skirmish, another from the duel with the previous Guide, yet another from a burn he had taken to shield Alex and Burnur, when the sentinels had been flash-zoned during the final hours of the Xhelrig campaign.

Jim traced the damage that life had dealt Blair, following the scar on the left side of his neck down across his collar bone. He stopped above Blair's nipple, although Blair knew the scar continued down across his abdomen to his right hip.

"You need to learn how to dodge." Jim's voice cracked, destroying his attempt at lightness. Blair thought...turning, he verified his suspicions. His face tight with anger and sorrow, Jim was crying.

Blair was struck with an instant desire to run. A heartbeat later, he had moved, not away, but closer. Reaching up, he brushed one tear from Jim's cheek. "Don't. It's all right. I'm used to it."

The attempt at comfort failed. Jim winced slightly, and his voice was so low as to be almost inaudible: "That makes it worse."

Blair felt more pain at his inability to explain than from his injury. Jim had assumed...but Blair had to stay in character. He didn't know how to comfort the other man, and the sense of impotence prompted a useless flash of rage. He stared down at the floor.

The next thing he knew, Jim had lifted him gently in his arms and was carrying him to the wall where they usually talked. The feeling of being held was not completely pleasant; Blair felt out of control, at a disadvantage. But at the same time, Jim was speaking gently about nothing in particular, and Blair did not struggle.

Jim sat down with Blair still in his arms. Leaning back against the wall, Jim helped him find a comfortable position seated on Jim's lap, resting against him. Jim was tall enough that, when Blair forced himself to relax into this position, they fit as if they had been carved for a temple niche. There was more silence, and it took extreme effort for Blair not to stand and move back to his old position. His muscles tightened, and Jim sensed his restlessness.

"Shhh--you need to rest." Before Blair could demur, Jim continued. "You relax, and I'll tell you about the colony I was headed for. It's the fourth largest planetoid in third ring." His deep voice caused a pleasant rumbling sensation in Blair's bones, and Blair let himself go limp, the better to feel Jim's voice and heartbeat. "The planetoid's atmosphere is higher in oxygen than here...they say that breathing will be like a drug for the first few weeks...one fifth the gravity, so we'll be strong...ample water supply and almost universal vegetation..." He seemed to be speaking in short snatches now, but Blair could hear the joy and expectation in Jim's voice as he floated on the waves of his words. "...humid and warm...land for all of us...hard work...rewards...Blair....together...."

"Time's up! Come out of there!" Rak's voice sliced through the comfort and the sleep. Blair started and, for a second, thought he was on a green planetoid with two moons. Then he remembered where he was, and remembered his orders that Rak should end any session that encroached on the work day. Sleep fell away like shreds of silk under a burner, and he sighed as the warm green dream drifted away.

He sat up until he could look Jim in the eyes, meeting Jim's soft smile. Without planning or intent, Blair leaned forward and kissed him. Before Rak could call again, he stood and left the cell.

 

 

Three weeks later, Rak answered a summons to the observing room. She was immediately accosted by a tensely controlled Guide.

"He's not looking well. He's not eating enough and I don't know if the exercise is working. I expect better from you than this."

The old slaver bowed low, then straightened to meet Blair's accusing gazes. Her voice was tinged with obvious respect, but her words were firm. "He's dying, and however much you punish me, you can't change that."

The double shock caused Blair to flinch. "This is not a threat of punishment. But he must not die. Do something."

"What, Guide? Force-feed him? Run him round the courtyard with razor-whips?"

Blair flinched again. Remorselessly, the slaver continued. "Physically he would survive. But mentally he can't take it."

Blair turned angrily, striking the wall with his fist. "I spent almost a year in the dungeons of this Guideway. I lived on rain, roaches, and hatred. A year of darkness, chained to a wall. He's here two months and you've given up on him?"

Rak shrugged. "He's not you. Some of them value freedom over life. I don't completely understand it, but I do accept it."

Blair stared fiercely off into the wall. "Can you do anything?"

"I can watch him die. So can you. Or he may try to escape."

"There is no escape."

Rak smiled mirthlessly. "No. Then you will watch your guards melt him. Or, if you decide to forfeit their respect, you can tell them to let him leave, and he will die in the great sands. Either way, a loss."

"You suggest?"

"Kill him now. I don't like to see them suffer." Blair stared at his chief torturer in surprise, until Rak amended her last statement, "Needlessly."

There was a long silence as Blair stared out at the courtyard, watching the waves of heat shimmer up from the sandstone. Finally, he spoke without turning, his voice devoid of emotion. "I will give you your instructions tonight. Send a messenger over to Alex's quarters and request her presence."

Rak turned and left the room. In the emptiness of the room, Blair began the warrior's ritual preparation for suffering.

 

 

Alex was announced but a moment later. From his balanced-stretch meditation position, Blair spoke: "I sent a messenger over to you. But you can't have made it here so quickly."

Alex joined him in the pose, one hand against the wall for initial balance. It was their old way of talking--the activity eliminated any need for eye-contact. "No. I came over here with my own message. Rafe and I are to be mated. And bonded."

Blair's balance wavered, and he leaned slightly against a pillar. It would have been easier if she had just pulled out her burner and melted him. "I can't say congratulations. And you can't...you haven't bonded."

"No, not yet." The cold finality in her tone made Blair sigh.

"Not yet. I see." Blair pulled his shields more carefully around him. "You're the strongest sentinel in province."

Alex took the truth as her due. "And Rafe will match me."

"You deserve a Guideway."

"I will have one."

Ah. Yes, it would have been much easier if she had just killed him. "And I assume you didn't come over here to ask my help in challenging for Connor's."

The war-mates turned to face each other, their eyes meeting the first time. Blair's gaze was cool and level; Alex's expression combined anger, obstinacy and shame in equal measure.

Blair continued in a steady, considered manner. "It would be easier if you took him as a mate but didn't bond. But I don't suppose he has the control over his shielding to manage that."

Alex ignored the implied insult. "I wouldn't let him. He deserves more. He deserves equality."

"He'll never be your equal, mate-mine." Blair gazed at his friend and sentinel for a moment, then continued: "So this message is in the way of...a challenge?"

Alex winced, correcting him with a murmured, "Warning...and challenge." A surge of sympathy moved Blair to put an arm around her.

"This is hard for you; I know. You've made a choice."

"He loves me, and I--I'm fond of him. I could love him. I will." Alex's voice was as strained as a confession under torture. "And...and we can bond. I have something with him that I can never have with you, regardless of the fact that I love you. He needs to challenge you for his honor...and also for his peace."

"He's jealous."

"Yes. And I understand it. I'd hate anyone he loved the way I love you. You and I were war-mates. That's something that we've had that Rafe and I can never share." With an abrupt motion, Alex slammed her fist through the wall beside them.

Painfully, Blair attempted a jest. "That's nice. Destroy his Guideway before he even gets to sacrifice for luck. Alex, you made the decision that you had to make. Don't..." There were too many platitudes hanging about them, waiting to be spoken, and Blair just reiterated, "Don't."

There was a long silence, then Blair's composure broke suddenly, and he swung Alex around to face him. "Will you be his champion? You will. You'll stand for him. So I get to fight you. To the death. Because even if you're bonded, he won't be able to face me, shields down. I'd--"

"You could kill him with a thought."

Blair smiled bitterly. "At least you admit that." There was another silence, and Blair could barely think through the haze of anguish and anger that held him like a jealous lover. He had released Akred--and he had never loved Akred as he did Alex. But to lose her like this, to lose them one by one until he was that most pitiable of creatures, a Guide without a sentinel...but to keep her for that, for his own sake...it would be deep dishonor...

When Blair spoke again, his voice seemed to come out of a distant fog. "I took a blaze for you in the hill battles; you kept my position hidden through two hours of torture in the siege before Xhelrig. You gave me your blood to drink when I was dying of thirst; at Klachig, I swam across the mere with you on my back, unconscious. We fought side by side and were both wounded at Teldor--"

Alex rounded on him angrily. "Stop that! I've already thought of all that and it isn't going to change my mind. If you have any love left for me, don't torture me. I have to stand for him. What good will any of this have been if you kill him?"

Blair touched her shoulder apologetically. "I wasn't trying to change your mind. I was just figuring who holds the debt at present."

"We both owe our lives many times over. What does it matter now?"

"I want you to do me a favor." No comment from Alex, so Blair continued. "I don't want you to be there. I don't want twenty years of friendship to end with my death at your hands. I don't want you and your Guide to be my last sight through the bloody curtain."

Shaking her head in frustration, Alex backed away. "We went through that. I'm going to protect him."

"This isn't about that skagging omega!" His rage forced her back another stop. "If you agree not to be there, I promise to go down in his first assault. To Rafe, not you. I won't harm him." The omega would be a legend, felling a Guide as powerful as Blair.

But of course, no one would believe it. The only explanation would be treachery. It would not help Alex to have suspicion fall on them after his death. In sudden inspiration, Blair murmured, "In fact, I'll promise you better. I won't even be here. Rafe will get his Guideway once I've turned down the challenge."

"Turned down...?" Alex stared at her war-mate in horrified amazement. "You will lose...every shred of honor."

"It won't matter to me. Tonight, having received challenge, I'll go for a solitary racer-ride. They're notoriously dangerous. I promise you burning wreckage by morning."

"Everyone will suspect suicide. You'll lose all honor--"

Blair shouted with sudden frustration, pinning Alex to the wall in a brutal throat lock. They glared at each other angrily. Then Blair released his grip and spoke in a fiercely controlled voice. "What do you want from me? I am asking a boon. Do not force me to die at the hands of my only friend. Or her Guide." He spat the last word.

The ensuing silence was punctuated, finally, by Alex's fatalistic nod. She turned to go, but was stopped at the door by Blair's voice. "If I were to tell you I still love you, and wish you future happiness..."

Alex turned to face him with a rough chuckle. "It would make my choice more difficult."

A shaky laugh escaped him. "Well then...I'll see you in hell."

"I look forward to it." They grinned at each other, for a moment enjoying the same reckless bliss that they had shared before countless battles. Then for an instant Alex remembered the present circumstances, and her smile wavered.

Blair's expression never changed as he recited, "The first one in hell--"

"--picks the coolest spot," Alex finished, as they shared their last joke.

Blair held his expression blank for a full ten heartbeats after Alex had left the hall. Then he gasped as the pain hit him deep in the gut. For the first time since childhood, he felt the hot shame of tears threaten to overflow. Then he turned to sprint blindly toward the slaves' quarters.

 

 

Jim jumped to his feet in shock when Blair burst into the room. His initial move to comfort Blair, upon seeing the tears, was thwarted by the fact that as soon as he touched Blair, Blair knocked him across the room. Pushing himself away from the wall, Jim watched warily.

"Why do I have to lose you? Why both?" Blair advanced toward Jim, shaking with rage. "Why aren't you eating? Why won't you take exercise?"

"They haven't made me a target yet?" Jim's attempt at humor failed as Blair continued to shout.

"Is that what it takes? Razorwhips and beatings, are those the way to get through to you? But I know your type. Your mind will be broken and your spirit will be dead and I'll have lost you."

Jim moved forward once more in an attempt at comfort. He stopped when Blair's sudden movement brought a blade to his throat. Staring at the dagger, Jim held very still.

"If I must lose everything, then I deserve this." As Blair spoke, he removed his short kilt. Without taking his eyes from Jim's, or the knife from Jim's throat, Blair reached up and draped the cloth over the camera in the wall. "I don't need a record of this."

"This?" Jim repeated as Blair removed his jacket. Jim stared at the healing burn-mark for a moment, then followed the old dagger-scar down Blair's chest to his groin. The silence was long enough for Blair to begin to smile.

"Jim." Having captured the man's attention, Blair moved the knife in a slow delicate movement down Jim's chest until he reached the laces of his jerkin. A strong flick of the wrist served to slice the garment down to Jim's knees before he had time to flinch.

Jim inhaled sharply in delayed reaction, but remained motionless. The point of the dagger rested on his stomach; a breath of movement or a moment's pressure would serve to draw blood.

Blair was breathing more rapidly, now, as if in battle. In a curiously detached voice he spoke, never moving his blade or taking his eyes off Jim's naked body. "If I were your Guide--if we were bonded Guidesen, I wouldn't have to ask. But since we are not bonded, I must ask you."

"So...this is your idea of a pick-up line? Persuasion at knife point?"

Blair gave a quick smile, which disappeared just as quickly. In the same detached voice, he demurred: "No. The first part...cutting off your clothes was just a gift to myself. I've wanted you for so long. Delaying gratification is not my strength." With a sudden courtly bow, he tossed the dagger into the air and caught it by the flat of the blade, extending the hilt towards Jim.

Jim made no move to take it. "What's this?"

"This is the next step in my...request. If you wish to have nothing to do with me, you take the knife."

"And if I don't think it's needed?" As he spoke, he took the dagger and held it still pointing at Blair.

"Get rid of it."

Blair gasped, then laughed, as Jim threw the knife away to clatter into a corner.

They stood for a moment, with no weapons between them, as close to honesty as they had ever been.

Then Jim grinned, his teeth flashing white in the gloomy cell. He glanced down, and Blair followed his gaze in anticipatory appreciation. Wryly, Jim murmured, "Even if I had kept the dagger, it would have been hard to deny my desire."

Pushing him against the wall, Blair bit him softly in the neck and whispered into his mouth, "It would have been harder for you to deny my desires. That little knife would have never have stopped me." Knowing there was no hope for a bond, nonetheless Blair dropped his shields, opening his mind to its fullest as he took Jim in. It would be the best moment of his life, even if he hadn't known how short that span really was.

 

 

"Maybe it's just as well we can't bond," Jim gasped out ages, centuries later over Blair's quieting moans. "Not sure if we can handle anything more intense."

It wasn't going to be an issue, but Blair decided to treat himself to a couple of seconds of afterglow. "Blood, that was...skag me."

"Next time." Laughing weakly, Jim patted at Blair's arm. "You were...blood. I've never been lifted and pinned against a wall before."

There would never be a next time. His afterglow officially dimmed, Blair struggled to sit up. "I told you...even for that, even for you, I won't kneel."

"You and your honor. Not that I'm complaining. It was even better five feet up. Blair?"

Blair repeated his question, this time taking more time to get a good breath. "We didn't bond, but that...something was...odd. What did...how did you do that?"

Jim stared up at him bemusedly. "You did the heavy lifting. My part wasn't all that difficult."

"No. Something was different."

Jim stroked wet fingers down Blair's sternum, fanning out to circle each nipple. "It was intense. But that's what happens when two people care for each other's happiness. And..." Here he paused for a moment. "And I do care. I love you, and I wanted you to be happier."

Love. It hadn't been part of the plan, and it certainly wasn't an option now. "I'm not sure if happier is the word." Blair struggled to his feet. "Now come."

"It's a little soon for that. Give me an hour and..."

"I can help you escape. Follow me." As Blair pulled Jim to his feet and towards the door, he stopped only long enough to collect his kilt. "You might want your clothes, too."

 

 

Blair's racer landed gently on the sand, twenty yards from a small starhopper. Blair cut short Jim's questions with a curt, "You can pilot one of these?"

"With you by my side, I can do--"

"Yes or no?"

Jim looked wary at the abrupt interruption. "Yes."

"Then go. The maps are in the computer; all you really need to do is supervise the autopilot. You should be able to reach third ring's main base in a week. They can direct you to your colony."

"You're coming with me."

Blair turned his back on Jim to stare into the sands. "No. I plan on taking a short ride to nowhere tonight."

"Explain. It's not fair to keep me out on the same night that you let me in. You're in trouble. What's happened?"

Blair laughed shortly. "I'm about to forfeit my honor. And that leaves me with nothing."

There was a long silence, which Jim then broke decisively. "Your honor is internal, your own--I said that before. And there's no need to forfeit it. As long as you're alive, there's the basis for something. As long as I'm alive, my philosophy holds true for me."

"Freedom and opportunity, as I recall." Blair spoke in a hard, brittle voice as he drew his burner. Slowly, he sighted along the barrel and took aim at Jim's heart.

The two of them stood facing each other, motionless. Then Jim smiled sweetly. "That's correct."

Why did it seem a greater dishonor to seek happiness and life while shirking his duty? No matter what Jim thought, Blair's honor would be gone after today.

And, Blair realized finally, he might as well be gone with it.

With a swift turn, Blair blazed the racer, which exploded almost instantaneously, knocking him a step backward into Jim. So much for his honor. Let it go up in smoke; it was all he had ever had, and it could burn for all he cared. For Alex he could die, and for Jim he would live, and his honor was no more than a smudge of smoke.

Throwing his arms out in exaltation, Blair embraced his sudden freedom, opening his mind and soul in a great shout of life. For a second he hung, poised in empty ecstasy, and then it hit him. A wave of recognition, a fierce clasp of possession, a hot, slow clutching of connection.

The sensing was sudden and sharp and right, like a sword cutting into an enemy, like a kiss, like a kill. Like loving and skagging and fighting and starting again even as exhaustion took them to their knees. He felt Jim's senses blossom like a firebomb in the darkest night, like a sandstorm in the hot desert. He tasted blood, felt pain and desire and completion all at once, and when the great fist of sensation released him, Blair opened his eyes to see Jim staring in equal shock back at him.

It took a moment, as it always does to recover from simultaneous climax and apocalypse. When the world steadied around Blair enough for him to extend some Guidance toward Jim--his _sentinel_ \--Blair had to force himself to think as a warrior, not a besotted bondmate. Guards would be coming to investigate the fire; they had to leave. No time to explore this exquisite unity now.

“Blair--” Jim’s voice was cracked and bleeding, like lips after violent kisses.

“No time.” Turning to the hopper, Blair gestured at the ramp. “No time, love. We have to go.” He forced himself to keep his shields up, refusing to compel obedience. Coercion hadn't worked that well for them before.

“But this...this...”

“I know. Blood, Jim, I know. And we will explore it at length. And I will tell you the truth...many of them. But not here. Not now.” Blair stared across what felt like an immense distance and forced himself to use no persuasion but words. "Please."

Jim sagged slightly, then nodded, and finally Blair could open to him, feeling the reciprocal flow of energy across their bond like a warm hand at his back. It was enough to bring Jim back to alert attention. “When will you tell me the truth?”

“Once we’re out of range. And then...forever.” Mothersblood, it might as well be Blair’s philosophy, too, now that his honor was a puff of smoke over a dead battlefield. “Freedom and opportunity, Jim. My sentinel.”

Jim’s laugh sounded close to tears, but he followed Blair into the hopper. “Blair,” he said, as if that were an answer.

And it was.


End file.
